


Scent Memory

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-24
Updated: 2009-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's been away for five years but it wasn't long enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aldehyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldehyde/gifts).



> Written for the lovely [](http://aldehyde.livejournal.com/profile)[**aldehyde**](http://aldehyde.livejournal.com/) who I knew could handle the angst - a girl after my own heart! This one is so me, I might as well have just written my own name over and over and over. lol
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** : This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, her publishers and associated movie studios. No profit was made from this work. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of 18.

 

 

Scent Memory

 

You still smell the same.

 

It is that, more than the familiar crooked grin or the welcome in your eyes, that makes me stop, breath stuttering out in an uneven exhale.

 

It takes me back to afternoons tangled in damp sheets stinking with sweat and come and you and me, your legs tangled around mine, your hand on my hip, and things moving between us that you named too readily and I named too slowly, but that we both felt, regardless of what I later claimed. It takes me back to early mornings when you’d find me out on the balcony, the warmth of you suddenly against my back, your arms around my waist and the smell of you, sleepy and barely out of dreams, making me idiotic and sappy, glad to be greeting the day, glad to have survived.

 

I thought five years was long enough for the memories to fade. It was long enough for you to move on – or back, more accurately – to Weasley. Like I always said you would. Like you always swore you wouldn’t. I wonder how long she waited after I left before she made her move. I wonder how long it took you to notice that she was offering something more than just a shoulder to cry on. Did she have her hair the way you like it, tied back loosely, wayward curls escaping? Did she wear that blouse you’ve always loved, the pink one with the ruffles that makes her look delicate, like she needs you to protect her? Did she kiss you first? Did you try to stop her, earnest and apologetic, or did you give in all at once, grateful for the solace?

 

Weasley is looking at me through narrowed eyes and I know she is trying to guess my intentions in coming here tonight, in coming back to England at all. She holds your hand casually but with ownership and I can’t begrudge her the gesture. I’m the only other person here with a claim on you. You may be her hero, but you’re mine too. You saved me just as surely, from the fire and from my own dark monsters. And I have parts of you she will never know. She was your girlfriend for a few weeks back in sixth year, but in every way that matters, you were mine first.

 

You chat away about nothing while Weasley’s eyes draw lines in the sand. You are either oblivious or have become an excellent actor while I was away. I know where I’d put my money. You never could lie – your face gives you away every time. Your eyes tell all of your secrets. I’ve always known that, even before we were us, when we were still Potter and Malfoy, still suspicion and rivalry. And because I’ve always known that, I trust you. Because I’ve always known that, I was not careful enough with my own secrets and now you know me too well. Much too well.

 

When you lean in a little too close while talking to me, Weasley tucks in under your arm and you straighten to accommodate her, the movement as natural as breathing. A few minutes later, she has found an excuse to pull you away from our conversation, to immerse you back in the safety of friends who will help her to protect what’s hers. I drift off to another corner, to my own friends, my own safety. I did not come here tonight looking for you, after all, though perhaps I should have anticipated that you’d be here. There’s still too much overlap in our lives, even after all this time.

 

Later, though, when I am alone in the kitchen, you find me. You take my hand. Your palm is warm and slightly rough against mine and I remember how it felt, sliding across my stomach, my back, my cock. You tell me that it’s good to see me, that I look good, that you’re glad I decided to come home. Your eyes tell me you mean it. They also tell me that five years was not enough, that no amount of time will ever be enough, but I suspect it doesn’t matter because you are still you and I am still me.

 

But now someone is calling you. You give me a small, sad smile and move away. I watch as you are swallowed up by your familiar group of Gryffindors.

 

The smell of you lingers in the air around me. I breathe deep.  


 

*


End file.
